Upside Down
by Ceillean
Summary: Corran Horn, Wes Janson, Kell Tainer and Garik Loran. Wes looooooooooooooves playing practical jokes, doesn't he?


"How much longer?" Kell Tainer asked while making a face. His voice was laced with ultimate whininess, like a kid wanting a lollypop and being denied one.

Wes rolled his eyes. "Stop being a baby!"

"Well, if you'd at least give me something to blow up!"

It grew quiet for a moment and the way Wes creased his forehead and pursed his lips, Kell could see that he was actually contemplating his suggestion. A small grin spread over Kell's face and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "I get to blow something up!"

"Well, not exactly." Wes jumped from the ladder, eyeing his greatest work to date. "When's Corran due back anyway?" He asked, smiling slightly as he shifted his attention to Kell.

Kell stood leaning against the wall, looking bored and yet he managed to pull off the stance of a man ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. In this case planting a bomb in Corran Horn's quarters. Although it was hard to imagine Corran finding it amusing if a part of his quarters were to blow up into a few hundred itty-bitty pieces. The look on the man's face would be worth it, though.

"Depends on how long Face needs to get him as drunk as we need him. Could be a few more hours."

Wes nodded once then rubbed his hands together with a bright, evil smile on his face. This was the sort of smile Kell knew meant trouble, the sort of smile where you backed away from Wes Janson while holding up your hands – palms up – pleading your innocence. "Did you bring it?" He asked in a dark, sinister voice. Only thing missing was the matching laugh – the one where the bad guy would throw his head back and exaggerate like a crazy man over and over again.

_Ha ha ha ha ha ha – Ha ha ha ha ha ha… _

At least in Kell's mind Wes could pull it off.

"Yeah. It's lying in the back waiting to be mauled, as usual."

"Well then plant a confetti bomb in his stomach."

Kell wrinkled his nose. "That's not even remotely the same!"

"It's all you're gonna get! Now help me finish this up before Corran gets here."

Grumbling something incoherent under his breath, Kell pushed away from the wall. Wes scrambled back up the ladder, grabbing a hydrospanner from his tool belt and reaching up to tighten another bolt that would hold the sofa in its designated place.

This place being the _ceiling_.

An old, stained caf table, the bookshelf (the little reading material Corran owned was glued onto the wood with reversible adhesive), two lamps, Corran's small one-man bed (the poor sod) and now the sofa found their new homes to be quite fascinating. Kell had pulled out the ugly grey carpet, rolled it up and carried it into the small makeshift kitchen while Wes had laid out a large piece of Inolia, to make it look like the ceiling. A small grey lamp, which would usually give off an ugly dingy yellow glow, was attached to the middle of the floor.

Corran would love it!

Wes had already planted a few holocams all around the room so he wouldn't miss a single second of his friends' reaction.

This would so be worth it.

"You need to stand in order to walk."

Corran ripped his eyes open and smiled – at least the lift of his lips was supposed to look like a smile, as far as Garik Loran was concerned. And even though Corran was short compared to him, he had to weigh at least a ton! His feet barely touched the ground as Garik held him up by his shoulders, pulling him along the corridor towards his quarters.

"You know…" Corran hiccupped while trying to stand up straight. If Garik's sight had been impaired by an angle of about forty-five degrees, it might have seemed like Corran was actually standing. "I watched a movie the other night."

"Did you now?" Garik asked, dragging Corran along the corridor. Overall it would have been easier to hoist the man over his shoulder but he would leave alone what little dignity still remained.

"Mhm." When Corran started to giggle like a young girl, Garik knew Corran was far beyond drunk. This was completely, utterly and devastatingly wasted. "You, my friend, were one of _those_ guys."

Garik blew out a breath and counted the last few steps until he'd finally reached the entrance to Corran's small quarters. "I was, huh?"

"Yep." He smacked his lips. "You were so funny." Corran threw his head back and laughed while Garik shook his head and wondered if he was like this when he was drunk. Force, he hoped not!

Just as he was about to touch his fingers to the controls of the door, Corran's knees gave away and he slumped to the ground like a wet sack of…well, Corran. Garik couldn't help but laugh at the scene that met his eye. Here lay one of Rogue Squadron's best and fiercest pilots, passed out and drooling all over the floor.

Garik dug through his overalls and extracted a tiny holocam, one he'd used countless times while spying on people he wasn't supposed to be spying on. It was almost ridiculous how much information he'd gathered on certain individuals – including his colleagues – to blackmail them. Who knew, maybe the pictures would come in handy some day. The thought made him grin like an idiot.

He snapped a few shots of the drooling wet sack of Corran, stuck the holocam back into his inner pockets and palmed the lock of the door. It hissed aside, revealing a brightly lit upside-down room. Garik laughed as he dragged Corran inside by the hem of his collar.

"You've overdone yourself this time." Garik commented, dropping Corran as he surveyed Wes's fantastic work of art. An upside down room – who would have guessed.

"How long will he be passed out?" Wes asked, coming forward with his hands stuck into the pockets of his pants. He seemed so nice and innocent the way he stood there, as if he were the nicest guy in the entire galaxy.

Yeah, right.

"Definitely a few hours. Where do you want him?" This time Garik _did_ hoist Corran onto his shoulder.

"Right underneath the bed, of course." He inclined his head towards the nearest corner. "We can watch him from next door. The holocams are all on and running, including four separate motion detectors to let us know when he's finally awake. Kell's already at his station keeping watch. "

"Sounds like a mission to me."

"Yeah, well." Wes rubbed his hands together. "Look up."

Garik drew his brow into a suspicious frown. Still, he tilted his head upward and couldn't help but chuckle. "What happened to his face?"  
Wes scratched at his head. "He had an unfortunate accident with Kell. He's a menace by the way."

Garik snapped his head around. "Look who's talking."

They laid Corran onto the floor and draped a blanket over him. Slowly and grinning wickedly, they left him in his alcohol induced slumber, eagerly awaiting the time Corran woke up. And they would tape everything – oh the joy!

Corran hoped he was only dreaming. One part of his brain was trying to wake him while the other was still sluggish, dealing with the fact that he'd had way too much to drink. Strangely, he remembered being with Garik and normally Garik was the one to pass out… Had he been awake, he would have realized that there was something out of the ordinary and he would have gotten suspicious.

Instead, he blinked away the remnants of the hazy dream (being gobbled up by a zoo animal) and turned onto his back. He didn't dare open his eyes yet even though he wondered why in the world his bed was suddenly so hard. He tapped his fingers on the mattress and then realized it wasn't a mattress at all.

Slowly, slow motion slowly, he opened just one eye. Minutes passed by and he didn't move a muscle. He had to think this through and it was _hard_. So Corran was lying on the floor while his bed was up there? No, wait… that wasn't right, was it? It didn't make sense.

Grunting, he turned back onto his side and closed his eyes. Yeah, he'd had too much to drink and now he was hallucinating. He'd kill Garik for it later, once he was sober. Wouldn't take more than a day or two, he supposed. And so Corran slept on, oblivious to the fact that Wes, Garik and Kell were watching him and laughing their asses off.

Five hours later Corran's brain was at least half way functional. Or so he thought until he sat up and came face-to-face with a mauled Ewok. Its face was slashed in various places, showing white foam sliding down its dark brown fur. Corran's eyes widened and he jumped back with a loud screech that could have shattered the windows.

The Ewok's eyes blazed with anger as it stared at him, its face contorted into a mask of – wait a minute…

Corran inched closer and reached out with a finger. He pushed at the Ewok hanging from the ceiling and watched as it swung back and forth, back and forth. "Yub, yub." It said with a very mechanical voice and although Corran's brain worked slowly, still even he could figure this one out. "Kettch." He said to no one in particular.

But then came the part of the "Why" and "What the kriff?". He tilted his head upward and his jaw dropped. He had to be hallucinating! Why was he laying on the ceiling? How was he laying on the ceiling? Why was his stuff up there?

What the hell had Garik put into his drink?

Knowing it would make no sense to think about it any further, he decided to lie back down. But as he did so, he noticed the ceiling lamp not too far away from him…

He wasn't hallucinating. This was real.

It took him a very long moment to piece everything together – Kettch, furniture on the ceiling, lamps on the floor… wow… Wes had done a perfect job this time!

Corran sat up and pursed his lips. From a distance, he heard wicked, evil sounding laughter. So they were watching him, were they?

Already his mind went into overdrive -- oh sweet payback.

Before he was able to scramble up though, Kettch made the most peculiar sound. A slight pop and then a hiss – and then the Ewok's insides spread all over Corran. Some kind of sweet smelling red goo stuck to his hair and skin, running into his mouth, underneath his shirt and down his arms.

Oh yeah.

They were _so_ gonna pay.


End file.
